


Survivors

by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Battle Royale fusion, Explicit Language, M/M, frank discussion of suicide, rated for VERY mature themes, talk of child abuse by government
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/DarkAthena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles are survivors of the Battle Royale Program, Argent goes to see them when the compound containing this year's selection is attacked by the resistance.</p><p>This talks very frankly about adult themes and issues, including suicide, if you have worries that this might trigger you err on the side of caution - it probably will.</p><p>This is a fusion with the novel/movie/manga Battle Royale where a class of kids is taken at random, placed in an isolated area (an island in the Japanese version) and told to kill each other. It was almost certainly a huge influence on the Hunger Games but is much more adult and horrifying in how it deal with it. The movie was denied release in America because of it's themes etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivors

**Author's Note:**

> I hated the Hunger Games mostly because I LOVED Battle Royale, it was so much colder and vague about why they did it. Also it happened every year and with more kids over a much tighter period of time (three days) and in the film one of the survivors they showed couldn't have been more than ten.
> 
> Knowing how corrupt the system had to be I came up with this, with Derek and Stiles fucked up by the BR program, but held in place by it, unable even to rebel, but ostensibly kept in luxury by the government that had fucked them over.
> 
> This was meant to echo the scene in which Stiles confronts Chris about his sister.

Stiles lifted the large bottle of vodka by the handle, then added a bottle of whiskey to his haul and carried it to the counter. “You look a little young,” the man behind the counter said, “you got some ID, kid?”

Stiles pulled out the wallet and handed it over. The man went pale when he saw it, and mouthed Seventeen. He swiped it and then said, “if the government is paying,” he took the two bottles and replaced them with much better quality. “Enjoy,” he said putting them in a bag for him.

“What you got to do to get one of those?” Another customer asked, putting a bottle of wine on the counter.

Stiles sighed, it wasn't the first time he got asked this sort of question. “You become the youngest ever survivor of the BR program.” The customer went quiet, swallowing uncomfortably, before he stepped away from the door. He made uncomfortable apologies and moved further and further away, towards the wine.

They always reacted like that.

Stiles didn't give it a second thought, he just put his purchases into the jeep and drove to Derek's.

They had a ritual for BR week.

Not many survivors of the program did too well after, this was just their way.

When he got there he walked up to Derek's small apartment to find that Chris Argent was there. “Stiles,” Argent said, from where he was sat on Derek's small couch. Argent was a hard faced man. Stiles didn't even react to him. What right did Argent have to interfere on this of all weeks. Somewhere in California forty four kids, one class, was being transported to a isolated area, collared and told that only the last man standing would get to go home. They would each get a weapon and told to kill their friends, and the worst thing was, that they would. The alternative was that the collar around their necks would explode. Either one went home or none did. The rules of the BR program were simple- kill or be killed or everyone dies.

“There was an attack on the BR compound.” Argent said bluntly.

“And?” Stiles asked, putting the bottles on the side. He and Derek had a ritual, they'd fuck and get fucked up. “I'm a ward of the state, I fart and the government has a record, same as for Derek, same for all of us.” He made a gesture to indicate all the other survivors of the program, though they very didn't last long. The suicide rate amongst survivors was over 80%

“You're not associated with the Resistance?” Argent asked.

Derek covered his laugh with his hand over his mouth. “Really?” he asked, and stood up, going to the kitchen of the small apartment.

“Why would I be associated with the Resistance?” Stiles asked, “I mean it's not like I don't hate the BR program with my entire being, but I'm watched, chipped and logged like a piece of meat.”

“My daughter's class was the one selected this year.” At that Argent sounded a little defeated.

There was a bark of laughter. “Sorry,” Stiles said, “how convenient is that?” He leaned over so his breath washed over Argent. The year Derek was selected was the year he accused your sister of statutory rape, and it was weeks after his family died in a terrible house fire that was investigated by my father the year I was selected, despite no other class of eight year old had been, or ever been selected again. I mean it's not anything to do with the fact your father is in charge of the selection committee. It throws all the suspicion off doesn't it, if she has been selected, and then the compound is attacked. How many of the kids are missing?”

Argent lowered his head into his hands. “I tell myself it's for the best, that the BR program is important, that the government knows what it's doing.”

Derek was leaning against the door frame when he said. “When you can tell us,” his hand was at his neck, like he could still feel the weight of the collar there, “what it's important for?” Argent glared at Derek, then folded in on himself. “Because as far as we can tell the only thing is serves is the Argent family. And your daughter, is she there under her own name? Or her mother's maiden name?” The way Argent's head jack knifed meant that there was something that he didn't understand, that they had touched on a nerve. 

“She gets rescued by the resistance and voila you have an agent in their midst.” Stiles said, “She gets selected and the suspicion is dropped from your family, because you're not giving her any preferential treatment, but she is taken into their midst already armed. How very convenient?”

Argent made a sound like he had been deflated. “Whiskey, brandy or vodka?” Derek asked, taking a glass to the counter. “It doesn't help, but it's better than nothing.”

Argent's hands were shaking when he took the glass. “I, I tell myself it's for the best.”

Stiles didn't have an answer for that, so with a tumbler of vodka in his hand he just left the room.


End file.
